


There's Not Much to Say

by Pendulumwriter



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pendulumwriter/pseuds/Pendulumwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is about Mother’s Day, I’m guessing.”</p><p>“What? No, it’s just like any other day, Joe. It’s no big deal.”</p><p>“But it is. To both of us. You don’t have to say anything. My mom died too, I know how you feel. It’s okay.”</p><p>“What? Joe – no, my mom isn’t dead.”</p><p>“Then why can’t you call her?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Not Much to Say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [criminal_intent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/criminal_intent/gifts).



“Good morning to you too…” Joe slurred through half-opened eyes, Cameron’s hair twined around his fingers as she pulled away from the kiss. His eyes blurrily met hers, smile creeping across his face. She moved to lie next to him as he glanced at the clock, blaring ‘7:17.’ “What are you doing home so early?”

“Nobody’s there,” She mumbled, arms wrapping around him, burying her face into his neck. “Bos told me to head home.”

“Oh really?” Mischief overcame him, shifting over to lay her down, kissing her neck and jawline, feeling her shiver beneath him. “Mother’s Day got everyone out?”

“Mother’s Day?” The stopped, taking his face in her hands. “That’s what’s going on?”

“You didn’t know?” His grin stayed on, going in for another kiss. Cameron was already sitting up, sliding out of bed.

“Should I call Donna? Do you think she’s still at home?”

“She’s probably asleep.” He dropped back onto his elbow, amused. “It’s early.”

“Donna doesn’t sleep, Joe.” Cameron looked over her shoulder at him, grinning as she walked to the kitchen for the phone. He groaned, heaving himself up and dropping the blanket to stagger after her. She was already leaning against the counter, phone in hand.

“She’s probably spending the day with her kids.”

“Still, she has time to take a call, right? Three words and I’m off.”

“Why don’t you call your own mom?” He watched her throw a look at him over her shoulder, going back to focus on the phone. “I wish I could.”

“Shhh.” He could faintly hear the phone ringing several times, before reaching their voice mail. She gave a frustrated mumble, hanging up the phone.

“She’s probably having breakfast with Joanie and Haley.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m going to go lay down.”

“Come on.” Joe took her wrist as she went past him, bringing her closer to him as she lifted an eyebrow. Joe took her face in his hands, thumb brushing her bangs out of her face before kissing her long and passionately, breathlessly pulling away to look into her eyes.

In return, she pulled away, starting back through to the bedroom. He followed, still glowing, only to metaphorically have his face slammed into a door as she immediately got into the bed, fully clothed, turning away from him. Offense filled his head, and he crawled into bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and laying his head in her neck. She didn’t move, either to nudge him off or reciprocate. He planted a few kisses around her ear.

“Joe, stop it,” She said, lifting up a hand to push his face away. He stopped, sitting up more.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s – whatever. Just, I’m not in the mood, right now, okay?”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, him watching her as she squeezed her eyes shut, forehead knitted into concentration. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired, Joe.”

“No, you’re not.” He sighed, scooting closer to her, not touching her, just looming.

“Whatever.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No.”

“Fine.”

He started to his feet, going to the closet to pull a dress shirt and jacket off the hanger.

“Where are you going?” She seemed concerned at this, opening her eyes to sit up. Joe paused, looking over to her.

“The bathroom? To shower?”

“Oh.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He reluctantly hung the jacket back up, going to sit on the edge of the bed. She rolled her eyes, lying back down.

“I just thought you were leaving.”

“Why?”

“Because, Joe.”

“Cameron…” He sighed, crawling back next to her, waiting in the silence. “This is about Mother’s Day, I’m guessing.”

“What? No, it’s just like any other day, Joe. It’s no big deal.”

“But it is. To both of us.” She turned back to him, eyebrows tight together. “You don’t have to say anything. My mom died too, I know how you feel. It’s okay.”

“What? Joe – no, my mom isn’t dead.” Her voice was filled with disgust, scoffing as she sat up, swinging her legs off the bed.

“Then why can’t you call her?” He was genuinely confused at this, following her quickly as she started out of the bedroom and through the halls.

“Because we don’t talk, okay?” She was already frazzled, hands spread out near hear head as she ducked into the kitchen to go for the fridge. He stopped, going to lean against the counter, watching her take out a soda, popping the top and guzzling it.

“Can I ask why?”

“I’m not telling you, Joe.”

“Cameron, I’ve told you everything you’ve wanted to know about me.”

“Yeah, after lying about all those details several times over.” She started into the living room.

“The point is – you know all these things about me.” He stopped at the doorway, watching her plop down on the couch. “Don’t I deserve to know some of these things about you?”

“How do I know you’re not going to just use them against me, Joe?” Cameron shot back, crossing her arms and focusing on the TV as she turned it on. “Like every other detail about me you know.”

“You did the same to me.”

She fell silent, finishing off her drink. Her foot not on the coffee table was tapping incessantly, and she swirled the can in her hand.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Fine, then don’t.”

“Why is it such a big deal you know, anyway?”

“It’s not.”

“Nobody else knows anything about me.”

“What about Donna?”

“I don’t tell this shit to people, Joe.”

“Except my dad.”

“That’s DIFFERENT.” Her foot stopped as she glared up at him. “He found that out. I didn’t tell him.”

“Are you telling me I should guess?”

“No. I’m telling you to stop asking.”

“I haven’t been asking.”

“Shut up, Joe. Please, shut up.”

“Okay.” He stopped, watching her as she immersed herself in the TV, slowly going to sit next to her. “What’s on?”

“I don’t know.”

“Looks creepy. Is that Charles Aidman?”

She shrugged, scooting over to give him room.

“It was the first thing that came on.”

“It’s nice. The black and white is an interesting choice, wouldn’t you say?”

“What are you doing?”

“Talking about a TV show?”

“But why are you asking me questions?”

“Because I value your opinion?”

Her gaze darted around him, looking him up and down. “Shut up.”

He shrugged, turning back to focus on the TV. He knew he’d already broken through her wall, and it would only be a matter of time before she’d crumble. Even in the quiet, with the TV going, she seemed unnerved.

“Why do you even want to know?” Her voice was quiet, cautious.

“Because I care about you.”

“But why about this? Can’t I just- can’t I just have this? You don’t need to know. Nobody needs to know.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“But you want me to.”

“In my experience, talking about it makes it feel better.” He glanced over to her, look softening at her nervous stare to smile. “It doesn’t solve anything, but putting yourself out there and opening up to someone can make all the difference.”

“I thought you stopped that pseudo-normal BS…”

“Not all of it.” He scooted closer, arm on the back of the couch as she relented, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm dropped around her. “It’s your choice. Ultimately.”

“I don’t talk to her.”

“You said that.” His grip tightened, almost protectively.

“We never – Joe, I can’t do this. I don’t know how.”

“Come on, you’re doing fine. Just start where it feels right.”

He felt her pulse under his hand, quick, strong. She swiped a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“They divorced, when I was little. My parents. And I grew up with my dad, until – you know.”

“Uh-huh.” He ran his hand up her arm to her shoulder, massaging it.

“I was – seven, or eight, when he left. So I went with my mom. We were… ‘white trash,’ I guess. I was with my dad too, but it wasn’t as big of a deal there, with him I at least had my own bedroom.” She pulled away slightly, grabbing a nearby controller, unwinding it and fiddling with the buttons absent-mindedly.

“…Anything more? I mean, just being poor doesn’t seem like a reason to hate your mother, Cameron.”

“How would you know? Not like you’ve ever been anything but rich. Even without Daddy’s money, you still had a damn Porsche, nice apartment and a nice, nice salary, Joe.”

“…Okay, that’s true. But still, I don’t think you’re that petty. You’re petty, believe me, but not that much.” He gave her a smile, trying to put on as much charm as he could as she looked over, grimacing and looking away.

“God, don’t look at me like that, I hate it.”

“You love it. Go on.”

“It just – it wasn’t a good environment, okay? It was filthy, it was loud, fucking – beer everywhere. I got drunk at age ten. What kind of mom lets a kid get drunk when they’re ten? I threw up like, everywhere.”

“A cool mom?”

“Shut up, Joe. It really wasn’t good. She was barely there, anyway. It was sort of nice, I guess, since when she came home it was always just fucking hell.” She pressed into the controller, rewrapping the cord around it quickly, as if she were timing herself. “The shouting, the boyfriends, the –“ She stopped, unable to make herself go on as she tossed the controller aside, standing up. “The drinking. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“You were going to say something else there, weren’t you?” Joe asked, voice low as he stood to follow her.

“No, I wasn’t, Joe. My point is, she was a shitty mom and I don’t want to be associated with her. Okay? Okay.”

“Cameron…”

“Drop it, Joe. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

He sighed, heading into the kitchen as she disappeared into the bathroom, looking into the fridge as ideas and curiosity stirred in his head.


End file.
